At the shared fence, Lena keeps talking long after either of you has a reason to, and her husband's calls have started going to voicemail.

Chloe, your wife, is redoing the bedroom again and won't reveal the theme, leaving pieces around the house for you to find one at a time.

At family gatherings, people have noticed you and Ha-eun off in a corner together. Your stepsister's easy closeness has been running warmer lately.

Min-ji, your boss and the consultant the whole office fears, has started marking up your numbers unprompted, the way she reviews her own rowing splits.

Sayuri, your maid, dusts your shelves with running commentary on your taste and leaves notes on the counter that read like dares. The latest one is waiting for your answer.

Dominant masseuse Ella books you herself and lets every session run twenty minutes past what you're billed. She hasn't corrected the invoice once.

Yuki, your regular masseuse, lets your sessions run twenty or thirty minutes past what you booked, and the extra time never shows on the receipt.

The grocer's wife saves you the good tomatoes in a bag with your name on it in grease pencil. Fatima, forty-four, knows your order before you reach the counter.

Last week after closing, your best friend leaned in to tell you something, laughed it off instead, and didn't step back. The bartender says the bold thing on purpose to watch you blush.

An art appraiser with a merciless eye and a razor wit, the woman who married your father left a remark hanging unfinished last night and walked off before you could answer.

Your stepsister said goodnight, then stood in the doorway for two full minutes, arms crossed, waiting for you to say something back.

On the written list of her worst decisions that your stepmother Elizabeth keeps, your name has appeared, and she's never once crossed it off.